


Why the Holmes brothers hate sunsets

by sherlock221Bismymuse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 06:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18219338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock221Bismymuse/pseuds/sherlock221Bismymuse
Summary: As the sun sets and the sky grows darker, old memories stir and unfulfilled longings look up with hollow eyes.





	Why the Holmes brothers hate sunsets

Mycroft braces himself to face another sunset and another evening on his own.

He did not lie to Sherlock. He was not lonely.

There was simply too much going on inside his brain to have the space for loneliness. There was also the simple truth that there was no one whose company he would want to keep out of choice.

Except Sherlock of course.

But Sherlock never really seemed to care for his brother’s company any more, so that was not a relevant option.

He remembered those quiet evenings when they would sit under the tree, watching the sky turn deep blue and then black as the sun was setting. He would tell Sherlock about the stars and the universe, while thinking to himself that _this boy in front of him was his entire universe and how could he possibly ever love anyone more?_

Mycroft would sigh and have a quiet drink and then sink into a good book.

One more day on this planet would be gone.

.

.

Across the city, Sherlock braces himself against another day ending.

He plays such melancholy tunes on the violin that John would be in tears if music touched him as deeply as it does some people. As it was it would make him restless and wish he was out on a date.

Sherlock did not lie to John when he said he had no friends.

_How could he possibly imagine the kind of relationship people had with their ‘friends’ with their foolish conversations and idiotic interests?_

The simple truth was that there was absolutely no one whose company he would willingly choose.

John was someone he tolerated more than most. He did not mind having him round. Neither did he mind Greg or Molly. But that did not mean they were people he could communicate with about what was going on inside his brain. Everyone else was so slow that by the time he would have managed to explain one thought to them he would be light years ahead on the next 100.

The only time he had had someone who not only kept up but even outpaced him was when he had been with Mycroft.

They would always sit under the darkening sky watching out for constellations to emerge. Sometimes Mycroft would recite some poem or explain some new fact or tell him a story and Sherlock would listen, mesmerized, absolutely in love with his perfect big brother.

Every time he sees the setting sun, his brain recalls those moments of pure joy, when the sky seemed within reach of his outstretched hand and the universe full of magic and wonder.

_And to walk beside him forever and ever would be his Mycie._

.

.

One evening he had kissed his Mycie on the lips out of the sheer exuberance and joy of his love and Mycroft had reciprocated, making Sherlock feel as though his insides would melt.

But with impeccable timing Mummy had come by to call them in for dinner.

Much scolding had followed, with Mycroft taking the brunt of it as the elder, even though Sherlock had yelled at everyone and, for a change, insisted on taking the blame.

But there was nothing for it.

They were not left alone again. Ever. And Mycroft left for college soon after.

The next time they met was when Sherlock was rescued by him from a doss house, having almost overdosed.

.

.

But the love that had no name and the feeling that had no outlet never went away and grew and took root and was secretly nurtured by each one as the most precious truth of their lives.

.

.

So, across the city of London, under the gradually darkening sky, two genius brothers looked into the distance from their respective living rooms, wishing they were with each other, as the sun disappeared and they were reminded that one more day had passed and how achingly they missed the other.

They hated sunsets.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry!!!!!!


End file.
